Harry's Dilemma
by Jujuboy98
Summary: Hermione delivers Harry with some news - but it puts him in between a rock and a hard place - and with Ginny at Luna's Nargle convention, he has nobody to turn to. It's an unknowing battle between Ron and Hermione and Harry will be the one who decides their fate.
1. News

The naked foot crept carefully along the vertically striped wooden floorboards. The nails, neatly cut so they protruded slightly from the owner's toes, were painted a fierce, fiery red. The fourth toe, neighbouring the pinkie, sported a beautiful, golden toe-ring – which enforced the fragility of the woman who wore it. In her hands was a pair of silver high heels, embedded with delicate gems, and slimming straps. She wore a gorgeous, long, flowing, backless dress which was black, with small, white polka dots providing a beautiful touch to the magnificent work. On her shoulder, she carried a small, round, beaded bag – which looked like a normal, muggle handbag – but had an undetectable extension charm cast upon it. As the woman snuck through the house, she smiled at the gold-framed photographs which adorned the mantle and were hanging permanently around the cottage. Ginny, she knew, was away until next Sunday, accompanying Luna to one of the crazy Nargle conventions she loves so dearly. Hermione rolled her eyes at the thought, and then smiled bemusedly at the untidiness of the house since Ginny's absence had begun. She crept quietly along and opened the creaky bedroom door, making it loud enough to awake Harry, but not enough to over-startle him. As she entered the bedroom, she saw a tired man with tousled, long black hair, leaning against the wooden headboard of the double bed, and she smiled.  
'Hermione?' Harry asked, as if clarifying whether he was still dreaming. His question was answered as she walked over to her friend and gave him a tight and loving hug hello.

'So, what brings you here at this time on a Sunday?' Harry asked, implying a huge intrusion on her part. Of course, it was already eleven-thirty in the morning - and Hermione had been up since six.  
'Well… I have something I wanted your help with.' She said, a small smile dawning on her pretty, unblemished and make-up-less face, 'But we have plenty of time to discuss that, let me get you a coffee.' At those words, Harry smiled. Each morning, Ginny usually brought him a hot coffee. He was used to the perfectly brewed beans and steaming coffee waking him up properly each morning. Whenever she was away, however, despite his constant attempts, his coffee would always turn out burnt, too strong, too weak, plain revolting – or he gave up midpoint through. Hermione left the room, and wandered to the kitchen. As she entered the room, the ceramic tiles coldly touched her un-shoed feet, and she took a moment to adjust to the temperature change. She set about making a coffee and, within minutes, was back in Harry's bedroom – handing him the cup of Joe, then collapsing on the bed beside him, carefully ensuring she was not wrinkling her recently ironed dress. Harry took a deep sip of the heavenly drink and exhaled appreciatively, steam rising from his mouth. He smiled in gratitude, took another sip, then asked the question she was obviously waiting for him to ask.  
'So, is there a specific reason you're here?' He asked, raising his eyebrow in anticipation and, he admitted to himself, a half put-on interest in her reasoning. After she spoke her next words, however, the interest became very real indeed.  
'Well…' She said, smiling in spite of herself, 'I'm going to ask Ron to marry me.'


	2. Failed Persuasion

Harry was filled with utter shock. He was, of course, overjoyed at the news he had just been given, but that didn't make it less surprising.  
'Blimey Hermione! Why'd you give me a cup of coffee before telling me? I almost choked to death!' He spoke the words in a playful tone, with a hint of mocking lying in his tone.  
'Why are you so surprised?' She asked innocently, as a broad grin glued itself to her face.  
'I just thought…' Harry hesitated, 'That maybe Ron would want to propose to you – not the other way around.' He tried to look supportive, to not pressure her into retreating from the idea.  
'That nervous, red-headed moron? I'll be waiting until I'm as old as Nicolas Flamel – maybe longer!' She and Harry laughed at the reference to their first adventure at Hogwarts. Both of them remembered it well. But Harry's smile faded quickly, and his focus turned back to Hermione's news.  
'It's kind of traditional for the guy to propose, you know Hermione.' He spoke the first reason which entered his mind – and soon regretted this was the one he chose.  
'It's tradition for muggle-borns to be killed by a mysterious basilisk. It's tradition for Headmaster's not to be buried on Hogwarts's school grounds. It's tradition for the male to be taller than the female in a relationship.' The last instance was added in after a quick delay, in which Hermione realised she was being too harsh. It was typical of Harry to point out any flaws, nags or doubts he had – and that had worked in their favour before. But she loved Ron, and she was going to propose to him – that was that. Harry realised this and, as if with the flick of a switch, he turned back into his normal, cheerful – and slightly sleepy – self.  
'That's great Hermione,' He recovered, turning to his left to look at her properly. Both tucked under the giant quilt Ginny and Harry shared, they turned and gave each other a hug. Despite the excuse of the news as the reason for the embrace, Hermione knew it was a 'Sorry I doubted you' hug. She had received many of these over the years, and enjoyed them thoroughly; mostly because it meant she had won their verbal debate.  
'So,' Harry smiled, as they pulled out of their embrace, 'When do you plan on proposing?' He asked – wanting to know how he could help.  
'Well, today's Sunday. Ginny gets back on Saturday. So … Friday night. I'm going to get Molly to organise a dinner. We'll announce the engagement then.' Hermione, excitement bubbling within her at the prospect of her fairy tale marriage coming to life, turned to Harry to see if he understood. He smiled at her, raising a busy eyebrow, bemused at her obvious jubilance.  
'That is, of course,' He began – the grin growing bigger on his face and a twinkle in his eye, 'Presuming he says yes.'


	3. Familiar Phrases

The sound of Hermione's laughter still echoed gently and lovingly in Harry's ears long after he entered the bathroom. She was sitting in his bed, waiting for him to return so they could discuss the details of the plan she had so cunningly devised. Harry, however, had used the mug of coffee he had just drunk as reason to excuse himself from the conversation – and go to the bathroom. Once in the small room, he walked into his shower and twisted the shower head three times clockwise and four times anti-clockwise. Suddenly, the floor opened up and, placed in a magnificent stand, was a pensieve. He needed to clear his head – try and find a way out of this dilemma, so, plucking his wand from his pocket, Harry drew from his mind a silvery, blue string of memories and placed them in the pensieve. He watched the memories swirl around, helping them along with his wand. Satisfied they had been in there long enough, he placed his wand in his pocket then, taking a deep, unrequired breath, he plunged his face into the pensieve.

Scenes whirled around him, dissolving into existence, then back into nothingness. He watched until finally, he reached the one he was searching for. The memory dissolved into reality, and Harry saw the familiar sunrise that took place just yesterday. Of course, at the time, he had no desire to see the rising sun, but Ron, without the careful loving and consideration Hermione gave others, took no time to quickly jolt him awake. Harry watched himself waking up, and blinking in brief confusion. The smiling face of Ron was in front of him and suddenly, Harry was no longer watching the memory: he was reliving it.  
'Harry! Harry! I have some news!' Harry sat up – propping himself on his elbow – back arched against his headboard. Harry didn't really reply, just sort of moaned half-heartedly.  
'Well aren't you gonna ask me what it is?' Ron pressured, grinning uncontrollably.  
'I'd rather be sleeping.' Harry retorted, and he knew it was the truth. Harry noticed, with Ron, there was no offer of coffee, no consideration to his sleeping patterns. No – with Ron, growing up with Molly and being given everything, it was always about himself. He scowled slightly at Harry's remark, but was quickly plucked from the annoyed state when the prospect of telling him the news was remembered.  
'Look, so you know how, since the Battle of Hogwarts,' Harry winced slightly at the mention of the Battle – he still hadn't fully recovered psychologically, 'Hermione became my girlfriend?' That was the other thing with Ron – he often backtracked a lot, retelling things Harry knew perfectly well – seeking reassurance.  
'Yes Ron, get to the point.' Harry wasn't angry with Ron, simply irritated at his own lack of sleep because of him.  
'Well, you and Ginny got married two years after the Battle – and, two years after that, you're still married.' Again, Harry winced at the name of the Battle and, again, sighed as he realised Ron was backtracking again.  
'Yes, Ronald.' He sighed, emphasising the use of his full name.  
'Well – how did you propose?'

'It's actually quite a good story,' Harry smiled – finally something was about him, 'I actually proposed the week after the,' Now he made himself wince, 'Battle. We just didn't tell anyone for a while. So, we were wandering through the castle – holding hands while we stumbled through the rubble. It was quite romantic, actually. Anyway, we finally went to the Astronomy Tower and found a working telescope. We looked at stars together and our fingers were intertwining. And she looked at me and smiled. And I saw something in her eyes. Something which told me that she loved me. That told me I loved her. That told me we were meant to be. So, I proposed.' Harry finished, smiling sweetly at the thought – then suddenly missing his wife.  
'What did you say?' Ron asked.  
'I said: Ginny, we've been through a lot together. You've helped me through all the many, _many _tough times in my life. And I'm truly thankful. And standing here now, I realise I want us to always be together. So I got down on one knee. I didn't have a ring because I had decided to do it on the spot. But I took her hands in mine and said: Ginny. I love you. I always have. Will you marry me? And tears flowed, cascading down her face. But through all the tears was a smile – and a nod which told me her answer was yes. So I stood up and kissed her.'  
Harry now had a tear rolling down his own cheek at the nostalgic memory.  
'Wow', Ron replied, 'I'm really glad she said yes.' Harry smiled quickly, then realised something odd.  
'Hold on Ron, why did you want to know all this?' He asked, assuming there would be an obvious answer he had missed. The answer however, was the furthest thing from obvious Harry had ever known.  
'Well…' He said, smiling in spite of himself, 'I'm going to ask Hermione to marry me.'


	4. Phase 1: Ronald's Ring

As the scene dissolved before him, Harry pulled his head from the pensieve, placed upon its' marble stand. He knew he had been in there a bit longer than was normal, and hurried out – hoping the issue wouldn't be raised by Hermione. But he needn't worry. Hermione was smiling in joy as she realised her and Ron could be engaged by this time next week; oblivious to Harry's extended bathroom trip.  
'Okay,' He smiled, knowing it would have to come up sooner or later, 'You're obviously ready to go somewhere,' He gestured at her white polka dot dress and silver, gem-embedded high heels, 'Where are we going first?' Hermione smiled, obviously pleased he had finally noticed her outfit.  
'Well, I was thinking I might need a ring.' Harry laughed, then quickly turned serious.  
'But I can't stay out past three. I have an appointment.' He used the word 'appointment' generously. In actual fact, he had to go ring shopping with Ron. But he couldn't tell her that.  
'Okay, well get dressed and we'll leave when you're ready!' Harry got his clothes, then went into the bathroom once again to get changed. As soon as the lock clicked behind him, he closed his eyes and sighed deeply. It was going to be a long week.

Rings, in their hundreds, loomed around Harry as he shopped with Hermione. So many different cuts, and carrots, and styles and designs to choose from. Hermione would run around the store like a kid in a candy shop, dragging Harry by his arm to come look at the next ring she 'simply must have'. He sighed as she pulled him away from a golden, double banded ring towards an extremely expensive ring with the diamond the size of a bauble on top of it; a king on its' throne. This ring wasn't even for Ron – just something she wanted. Before he even had a good look at it, he was already being dragged towards the next one. But this time, it was different. There was no squeal of excitement emitted from Hermione's overwhelmed mouth. The pull on his arm wasn't from a muscular arm that ripped his shoulder from its' socket, but a gentle squeeze which signalled him to follow. Hermione walked towards the ring, snugly placed in its' velvet display. And as Harry saw it, she drew a breath and glanced at him, waiting for him to tell her what he thought. He studied it intently, and smiled. The ring was gold, yet it gave off a red sparkle which drew the eyes to it. It was magnificent. No jewel sat upon it. It wasn't elegant, or graceful. But it was unique. And both Hermione and Harry knew: this was it. Harry didn't need to speak. He gave a small nod and smile at Hermione, and she knew he saw it. This ring, was Ron through and through. Harry, realising Hermione was choking back tears, called to the store clerk and told him they would take it. And as Hermione watched the perfect ring go into the paper bag in a trance-like state, Harry heard the door open and someone step in. He was the only one who glanced at the figure who entered, and it was a good thing. For stepping through the jeweller's door, and smiling brightly at Harry was the lanky, red-headed figure of Ron Weasley.


	5. A Dilemmatic Decision

Panic. It flowed through Harry's veins. It coursed through his heart. Stepping out in front of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, wand tucked away and ready to die – that was fine. But to allow Ron and Hermione to see each other buying rings allowed panic to fill him with fear. Ron had obviously been shopping for rings before he was to meet Harry in half an hour. Now, he thought, it looked like Harry had the same idea. He was such a good friend, Ron smiled at the dedication of his buddy. Harry looked at him hopelessly, knowing the jig was up. But then he realised all he needed to do was to keep Ron distracted so he didn't spot Hermione and get him out of the store before Hermione stopped admiring the newly-purchased ring she now twirled between her fingers. Knowing time was short, Harry walked over to Ron, half-escorting him, half-shoving him out the door. As he went, he kept his voice low so as to not alert Hermione of his company.  
'There's nothing good in here.' He frowned, 'Let's look somewhere else.' Ron, he realised, had no knowledge in the area of ring-buying and therefore, was depending on Harry to guide him. Because of this, he was very easily persuaded. Harry felt bad, taking advantage of his position of trust. But he wanted to keep the proposals secret.  
'Ah, crap!' Harry suddenly let out an exasperated sigh. Ron spun around quickly, alert and ready for action, 'I left my wallet in there!' Harry finished, and Ron relaxed, his tense hand moving away from the pocket, within which his wand was stowed.  
'Well come on! Let's go get it!' Ron pulled Harry along, excited to get ring shopping.  
'Why don't you start looking in the next store? I'll meet you there!' A slight look of suspicion crossed Ron's face, but any doubts were quickly dismissed at the prospect of beginning his quest for Hermione's perfect ring. He chuckled merrily to himself, and with a nod in Harry's direction, he departed for the next jewellery store. Harry rushed back into the store, just in time to see Hermione spin around, paper bag and ring in hand – ready to leave.  
'Thank you Harry; this means a lot to me.' She smiled at him and gave him a hug. While held in the tight embrace, he made a worried, sickened expression. He had no desire to keep secrets from Hermione or Ron but now, unknowingly, they forced him into keeping one from both of them simultaneously. He feinted checking his watch, then made a surprised exclamation.  
'Blimey! Is that the time? I'd best be off!' Hermione smiled briefly at his subconscious impression of Hagrid, then thanked him again. Harry rushed quickly from the jeweler shop, and grimaced. It seemed, he thought to himself, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. And it was time for him to decide who got to propose: Ron or Hermione?


	6. Manipulation and Compromises

Harry slumped gratefully into his light red couch, sighing as his legs ached from constantly standing and walking. To his right was another cushion, usually occupied with Ginny. It was not unusual for them to spend a romantic night having dinner, then watching a movie; his arm around her shoulders and her head on his. But today, the space was occupied by Ron, who sighed cheerfully.  
'Bloody hell! That took a lot of effort!' He grinned at Harry, who mustered a smile and replied,  
'At least you found the ring you fancied.' It was true. After shopping through countless stores for a ring for Hermione, he had found one which was clearly perfect. With a dark gold, criss-crossed band and a decent sized diamond on top that wasn't overly large, it reflected a mix of intelligence and poise.  
'Anyway, I'd probably better get back to Hermione.' Ron said, placing the ring he had been admiring in the paper bag.  
'So, how are you planning on proposing?' Harry asked, realising he had no clue.  
'Well,' Ron started with a smile – obviously proud of his plan, 'I'm going to surprise her with a romantic dinner at her favourite restaurant and, you know, go from there.' Harry thought back to Hermione's answer when he had asked her the question and she had said, 'I'll be waiting for him when he gets home. Candles will surround me and as he walks through the door, I'll get on my knee and propose.' Harry tried to hide a smirk as he had heard. It was typical of Hermione to be wanted to be treated with romance and thoughtfulness, and here she was doing that for Ron. He knew that the romance would usually be wasted on Ron but, in his current state of happiness and anticipation, it would be a significant gesture. Harry sighed deeply, his head falling into his hands. He had to choose who got to propose first, then manipulate his friends' actions to correspond with his decision. As he reached this point in his thought process, an idea struck him. Maybe he didn't have to manipulate the situation. Hermione wasn't proposing until Friday night, so whenever Ron decided to propose would determine the outcome.  
'So, Ron…' He said casually, 'When do you plan on proposing?'  
And as the answer he had been dreading came out of Ron's lips, Harry sighed and thought, _Looks like I have some manipulating to do.'  
_'Friday night.'

Late that night, Harry lay in bed, looking at a picture of Ginny on his dresser, accompanying his glasses and alarm clock.  
'Ginny, what do I do?' The soft words left his mouth, as they often had in this bedroom. But always, there was a soft, gentle, soothing voice which replied with the very words he needed to hear. But Ginny's absence left him lost; stuck in this cursed dilemma. And he thought about Ron and Hermione's relationship; everything each of them had told him about it. And he came to a decision. Hermione was a strong, independent woman – and to her, proposing is her way of showing she truly loves Ron. Ron, of course, loves Hermione back dearly. But to him, proposing is just a way to spend his life with her. To Hermione, however, it proves her independence, loyalty, love and confidence to stand up for herself. If she were to be proposed to, after all this effort, Harry was sure she would feel like she was being a stereotypical woman. And that would take her back to her days of being discriminated against for being muggle born. Yes, he thought, relieved he had come to a decision. Hermione will get to propose.


	7. Phase 2: Clothing Corruption

The week, embellished and bedazzled by the countless significant events that occurred, flew by like Harry on a Firebolt. On Monday morning, Harry was forced to sit and admire the reddish, golden ring that Hermione had purchased Ron. He knew this was a big deal for her, and he was excited for them – but his eyes seemed to fall into the back of his head in boredom as she pointed out, 'A tiny blemish which looks almost like one of Ron's freckles.' Once he managed to draw her away from the topic of the ring, she realised she needed something to wear. She asked if he would accompany her, and he of course agreed, not realising that it would take them three full days of shopping to find the perfect everything. By Wednesday, Hermione was ready to go – all she needed was to purchase the candles and wine she planned on decorating the house with, and celebrating with. Once again, Harry was asked to join her, but he realised Ron needed his help as well. As politely as he could he told Hermione he had something to do, but to join her later at his house for coffee and the final revision of the well thought out plan. Hermione grinned merrily. This would give her some time alone to leave her with her thoughts, and she realised what a true, understanding friend Harry was. Harry spent the second half of Wednesday talking to Ron.  
'I can't do it! What if I get it wrong? What if I stuff up? What if she says no?' Ron, his face redder than usual, was almost hyperventilating.  
'RON!' Harry almost yelled it, trying to allow his voice to be heard over the long, ragged gasps coming from Ron's mouth. 'She loves you and you love her. And that is why you CAN do this. Because you love her. And you know you want to spend your life with her.' Silence followed those words. Silent, except for the gasps for breath coming from Ron's mouth. But, eventually, even those slowed down to normal, though slightly noisy, breathing. Ron knew Harry was right. He loved Hermione with all his heart, and he wanted to marry her. Harry relaxed his tensed muscles as he saw Ron come to this realisation. There was a brief moments' silence, then Ron was back to his old, excited self.  
'I was thinking about wearing a tux, what do you think?'  
'I think you should wear your normal clothes. Formal, yes, but normal. Hermione wants to marry you, not some overdressed redhead who is uneasily scratching his crotch in a grubby, rental tuxedo!' Harry chuckled at his own use of over-exaggeration to emphasise how out of place Ron was doing anything formal. Ron gave him a friendly glare, then quickly laughed it off. He agreed thoroughly with Harry's point. The two friends quickly picked out a casual outfit of jeans and a nicely patterned, neat dress shirt. The rest of the night was spent on the couch with beer in hand, watching Quidditch on Ron's huge flat-screen television, paid for off Hermione's salary, of course. Ron, to suppress his nerves, had a few drinks too many. Harry sensed it was his time to go and meet Hermione for coffee. He stood up, gathered his stuff and spoke quickly to Ron.  
'I'm going to meet Hermione for coffee, alright, I'll see you tomorrow.' Harry spun around, turning his back on the intoxicated red-head and went to open the door. But before he had a chance, Ron's foot, large and laden with a leather boot, hit him square in the back. Harry cried out in pain as his spine curved and he was sent flying across the room, crashing – with a resounding thud – onto the antique coffee table which stood innocently next to the marble door.


	8. Phase 3: The Duel

Harry stumbled to his feet, subconsciously noting the familiar sensation of warm blood trickling down his arm. With a quick glance, he realised that a small, green vase – belonging to Hermione – had smashed as he fell, cutting his arm deeply.  
'What was that for?' Harry yelled, anger coursing through his veins. His best friend has just kicked him; hard. And he couldn't remember doing anything wrong.  
'You are sleeping with my girlfriend! You knew how I felt about her!' Ron's words were slurred, the alcohol taking obvious effect of his mind. Harry's eyes rolled to the back of his head. He knew Ron had his suspicions, but it was only under the influence of alcohol that those suspicions set in his mind as fact. Ron's anger was blinding him. And, as Ron's anger grew – so did his idiocy. Harry saw the movement – one he'd seen a thousand times and had come to hate. Ron reached for his wand, tucked snugly in the back pocket of his jeans. Harry, seeing no other choice, drew his own wand and quickly shouted, 'Expelliarmus.' Ron's reaction time was slowed by his intoxicated state, and before he had finished drawing his wand, it had flown from his hand. Harry, sensing his opportunity, turned and, twisting the doorknob, he exited the building, slamming the magnificent marble door behind him. As he ran down the deserted street, Harry thought about everything he knew. Ron had no reason to suddenly think he and Hermione were an item. Unless. A light bulb went off in Harry's head, as he realised what caused Ron's sudden extra suspicion. He and Hermione had been spending lots of time together in the last couple of days as they organised and planned the proposal. And now, Harry thought – a grim smile on his face – he was running, potentially for his life, because of it. It's funny how things can turn out.

Ron was in a daze. He had just kicked his best friend into a coffee table. And then he had drawn his wand on him. And now, after Harry had scrambled out the door, he had collected his wand and run after him – and that's where he was now, sprinting after his best friend. He watched Harry's figure, running full speed about twenty metres ahead of him. And then, he faltered. Harry tripped, stumbling over his own feet. Ron, seizing his opportunity, ran up to his best friend and grabbed him. As he pulled him into a sitting position he saw the trace of a faint smile on his face – and knew something was wrong. He had been tricked. Harry, with a small glance at his wand, disapparating from his current sitting position on the street and Ron, his hands firmly pressed against Harry's chest, went with him.

As the two men appeared in Harry and Ginny's shared house, Harry smiled as he looked around the room. Ron, mimicking his actions, let go of his collar as he scanned the room of his best friends' house. And as he did, all signs of intoxication were drained from Ron. He seemed to snap back into his usual self as he scanned the room. For in the room was something beyond amazing. It was a sight Ron never expected to see. Harry chuckled to himself as he knew, the plan had worked perfectly.


	9. Phase 4: The Proposal

Candles, in their hundreds, lit up the otherwise dark room. It was not a constant light, but a flickering, wavering light as each candle gently wavered in the seemingly non-existent breeze. On a low, oak coffee table, where the grain consistently flowed in one direction, were two wine glasses, each filled to just below the brim with sparkling, blood-red wine. Next to the glasses, of course, was a bottle containing the same wine – which marked it as expensive and delicious. And on the floor beside the marvelous oak coffee table was perhaps the most remarkable and breathtaking sight in the room. Nay; in the world. For in a ravishing, pale-red strapless dress, wearing diamond, toe-less high heels – also without straps – was a beautiful, bushy, brown-haired girl.

She was kneeling on one knee and her mouth, lightly covered with glossy, bright red lipstick, was curved in a large smile, her white, not-so-bucktoothed teeth showing her joy. And in her hands was a jewellery case. Ron, forgetting Harry was there, walked over to Hermione – covering the distance in two strides. As he got close, he saw that her eyes were misty and watery. Despite her hazy, tear-filled vision, Hermione thought how handsome Ron looked. Harry chuckled as he thought to himself that it was _because _of her hazy vision that he looked handsome. Ron was taken aback. In two days' time, he was scheduled to be proposing to Hermione. Yet here she was, in front of him, on her knee and smiling at him. Then, before his own tears had time to surface, she began to speak.

'Ronald Bilius Weasley,' Her voice was soft, and she took regular, short breaths as she cleared her mind and stopped trying to think about what she wanted to say. She wanted this to be perfect, 'Since I met you on the carriage of the Hogwart's Express, when I was eleven – you've been a thorn in my side.' Both she and Ron smiled at each other but, Harry noticed, neither of them broke eye contact – but instead looked lovingly into one another's eyes. 'After we defeated a mountain troll together, we became friends. During our third year at Hogwarts, we became closer. But I didn't just feel closer to you. I felt different about you. It wasn't until the next year, when you didn't ask me to the Yule Ball, that I realised it was because I had feelings for you. For the next couple of years – I felt like you hated me. Despite our closeness, I thought you only saw me as a friend. Then you dated that bitch, Lavender – and you made me miserable. It wasn't until you woke up from being poisoned and said my name that I realised I might just have a chance. But for the next year, you seemed distant from me, and you never tried to advance our relationship. I had almost given up. Until you kissed me. That day, while The Battle was going on above us, I fell truly and deeply in love with you. And from then until now, I have remained there, deeply in love with you. And I know that I will never leave and that's why I want to ask you this question.' Hermione opened the small box in her hand to reveal the handsome, golden-red ring she and Harry had purchased. 'Will you marry me?'


	10. Revelations and Ramifications

Ron didn't even need to consider. As soon as he saw Hermione kneeling, pouring her heart out, he knew his answer. He knew what he needed to do.  
'Hermione – I will give you my answer. But first – I need to say something.' Harry watched in confusion and anticipation as Ron knelt down facing Hermione, the insides of their legs touching each other. He placed his right hand behind her neck and looked into her misty eyes. There was the slightest hint of wondering in them. She, of course, had no idea he had planned to propose to her and that she had pretty effectively destroyed that plan. So, she was obviously awaiting the rejection which seemed inevitable.  
'Hermione Jean Granger: since I first met you on the Hogwarts Express when I was eleven, I have loved you. I didn't realise it at the time. But I did. I've always been a jealous person and, seeing your great friendship with Harry, I assumed you two would eventually get together. But, every time that thought crossed my mind, I felt a twinge in my heart. Jealousy.' More tears further clouded Ron's vision. Harry realised, with some intrigue, they had never spoken about these things; not to each other or to anyone. Suddenly, he felt like he was intruding. But before he could leave, Ron began speaking again. 'I always looked up to you and your vast knowledge and capabilities. I pretended to be disinterested in them but, truthfully, I admired them. I admired you. In fourth year, I tried so many times to ask you to the Ball, but I always got tongue-tied and could never do it. When I finally did, you were already going with Viktor, and you broke my heart. And that's what led to my ignorance over the next few years. You had turned me down for Viktor, so I assumed you didn't feel that way about me. Those thoughts were still in my head in sixth year, when – as you so gracefully put it – the bitch, Lavender, wanted to be my girlfriend. Although I always imagined it was you I was kissing. Finally, I realised I loved you, and I didn't want to give up on you. And I didn't. And I never have. And I never will. And that's why I've spent the last week planning out a way to do something about my feelings for you. I have always love you, and always will. And nothing could make me love you more than seeing you proposing to me.' Both of the lovers' faces were swollen red, with puffy eyes and salty tear drops cascading down their features. Harry smiled, a tear or two rolling down his cheek at the sight of his friends; happily in love. Suddenly, he wished Ginny were here. Ron took a deep breath and reached inside his pocket. As he felt the small, cubed box, he sighed relief that he had it with him. Shuffling slightly closer to his girlfriend, Ron opened the box in front of her eyes deliberately – uncovering the magnificently beautiful, jewel-crowned queen of a ring Hermione had ever seen. And the tears falling rapidly down her face transformed from a river to a waterfall as she realised Ron had been planning on proposing. Ron wasn't sure he would be able to, but he somehow managed to speak the words both he and Hermione had been praying they would hear for years now.  
'So yes, Hermione – I will marry you. On the condition that you marry me.'


End file.
